Will She... Won't She? - The Rules of Carnal Engagement by Carl Glyn
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Embarking on a long, hot
summer of sexual adventure,
Carl and Helen agreed in
advance on their own personal code
for successful swinging... only to
discover that ultimately,when the
chemistry is right, the rule book
goes straight out the window.
Would she, or wouldn't she?
That was the question.
If push came to shove - would I?
Who are we? Carl forty-seven, and my thirty-eightyear-
old partner of two years, Helen. Both divorced, we
live happily together like two pieces of wreckage
washed up on the park bench of life, who have
decided to build a new boat between them. Me, as
Captain; Helen my First Mate [Nautical, but nice:
Ed]. Loads of factors contribute to a successful
relationship, not least being good health and
solvency, the prerequisite bedrock upon
which everything is sown and nurtured.
Health we have; wealth is in short supply,
but above all - we're in lurv. All it takes is
the merest glance for our two sets of
loins to become inflamed as one.
'You got a hard-on?' Helen'll enquire
'You bet. You wet?'
'Wanna bet? Course I am.'
Thankfully it doesn't happen
quite so much down the
Post-coital afterplay is
fantasy time. 'Have you ever
made it with a man?' Helen
'Reeely?' Instantly she was
all ears. She leaned quickly up on
one elbow and tapped my nose with one of her red
fingernails. 'Tell me.'
'I didn't like it very much; felt dizzy, and fell off.
I was twelve. How about you?'
She chuckled, and dug me in the ribs, then she
answered my question. 'Yeah, once or twice, I guess.'
'Not with another man, stupid.'
'Oh... well, no, actually I haven't done
that yet.Wouldn't mind giving it a go
though. It's a fantasy I've often thought
about. I really would like to do it. Seeing that
we've broached the subject, should we try to
arrange something? Would you mind?' She
arched one eyebrow.
Me? A man? Mind?
Both being naturists, we regularly visit a
secluded sand-dune beach, not five miles
from where we live on the south coast
where, because we had now deliberately
initiated a sexually pro-active frame of mind,
we began coming across numerous other
Boldly declaring our stance, my ballsy
Helen would lead me naked through the
dunes by my stiff dick, while my hand
circulated her bum. It's called advertising.
With anyone we might meet in these
circumstances it was then the most natural
progression to start discussing our take on
sexual matters, as a result of which Helen
more often than not went on to enjoy 'an
experience' with several of the women
behind their strategically placed windbreaks.
None of them was ever offended by,
demurred or rejected any of our advances.
These days it seems the majority of people
to be found in sand dunes are 'up for it',
otherwise they wouldn't be there.
It also seems that at least eighty per
cent of women are 'bi-curious', and
presented with the opportunity, sixty per
cent of them are heavily 'into' the whole girlon-
girl thing. It seems to go without saying,
too, that all of them enjoy the hundred-percent
approval of their male partners.
Then came our first crunch...
An attractive girl upon whom Helen was
performing deliciously juicy cunnilingus one
day, suddenly turned her face sideways and
began to fellate me.
Helen froze. Her expression clearly said:
'Ouch! I don't think I like this bit at all.'
At that moment I felt it was probably in
my long-term best interest to vacate the
girl's mouth immediately.When I withdrew,
the girl raised a questioning eyebrow at me,
as if enquiring whether she'd been chewing
too hard, or doing something wrong.
'Right. Sock it to me,' I told Helen, on
our way home in the car afterwards.
Thus our future Rules of Engagement
became discussed and agreed upon.
'It gave me a jolt,' Helen explained.
'Touching and stuff's all fine, and harmless
fun, but because I love you like I do, I find
anything more intimate is retch-making. For
my part, I will never kiss another man, give
him a blow-job, or allow penetration.'
Lines laid down
As we all know, the unwritten code of
recreational sex is that we all respect
whatever constraints are imposed on the
scene by any of the parties involved. If a guy
who tries something on is declined, then woe
betide him if he persists and starts to get
heavy. Reassured by mutual trust and
respect, couples graduate by degrees to each
more intimate level of participation, which
are arrived at by experimenting with each
individual's 'I'm-comfortable-with-this' zone.
It's a bit like that other popular
ballgame - golf, which (in theory at least)
gets better and better each time you play.
Through answering our first
advertisement online recently, Helen and I
were invited by a couple called Paul and Julie
(ages thirty-four and twenty-six) to go round
and enjoy an 'adult evening' with them at
their home. (Of course we met them at a
public venue first, but I'll cut to the chase.)
The night in question
Came the night, and before we went out
Helen was as snappy as hell. She wore her
'special occasion' black basque, a pashmina
to conceal her basque's deliberate overspill, a
black 'quick-release' wrap-over skirt which
barely concealed her taut black-seamed lacetop
stockings, and teetered in her black
'fuck-me' shoes. She looked and
smelled like a $5,000 hooker which, with the
security of her attendant male, always
turned her on. (How she would have been if
I'd playfully left her standing at the side of
the street en route is another story).
'I really don't want to go through with
this evening at all,' she said tightly, at the
eleventh hour, just as we were leaving.
'You're always engineering these situations
which I don't want to get involved in, and
forcing me to do things I don't want to.'
(Untrue: she'd agreed to this whole thing, but
when stage-fright strikes a girl, a man is well
advised to conceal his knowing grin and
button his lip. If I'd said: 'Okay, babe' - taken
her at her word and cancelled the occasion,
there'd've been all hell to pay and aggrieved
silence for a week afterwards. If you're a man
you can't win.)
Needless to say, after she'd let off all her
nervous steam, we did go - and later that
evening, comfortably entwined together on
their white leather sofa, our hostess Julie
confirmed that she had been so nervous
about us coming that she'd wanted Paul to
call us up to cancel the whole event. Another
thing Julie said, with which Helen agreed,
was that in most of their scenes she'd found
herself (initially?) ending up playing with the
other chap's dick purely out of politeness.
'Oh, don't I just know it,' Helen shrieked,
clapping her hands delightedly. 'And I
thought it was only me who thought that
way. I look pleadingly at Carl, begging him
with my eyes to get me outta there, and all
he does is grin, wiggle his fingers at me and
'That's because, from your actions, I can
only assume that you're enjoying yourself,' I
explained in mitigation. 'Suppose you
actually were in the process of being
transported to a seventh heaven of delight in
sexual realms beyond your wildest dreams,
which I misinterpreted as angst and
intervened to break up - then what? You'd
think I'd got jealous all of a sudden, and be
livid with me.'
'No I wouldn't.'
'Yes you would,' Julie countered,
smirking at her.
'Yes I would.'
Paul broke in: 'It's certainly a tricky one
alright - especially now.'
We flashed puzzled glances at him.
''Cause if Helen should happen to get to
grips with me later, I won't know if it's
because she genuinely fancies me, or is just
'In your case, Paul...' Helen chuckled
suggestively, neatly implying that she
couldn't wait to get to grips with him.
The rest of the evening we got along
famously together. Julie wore a slinky, figurehugging
pistachio-coloured dress over
nothing at all, so her nipples and pubic
mound protruded prominently through the
material. Feeling comfortable, content and
secure, Helen slipped into one of her 'I'mgoing-
big-boy-sex-appeal' looks, which made
Paul fidget all through supper wondering if
she meant it - which I knew she thought she
probably did... but under our previously
agreed Rules of Engagement, only up to a
point! Julie, bless her, didn't seem quite so
keen on coming across to me, but as I'm
forty-seven and she's only twenty-six, I
Our conversation ranged freely from one
sexual topic to another, until I sensed the
time was right to ask whether they were in
to partner swapping.
'We haven't - yet,' Paul confessed, 'but I
guess that's the obvious next step we're
working up to - and we'll get around to it
eventually.' I caught Julie flash him a
surprised sideways glance, which seemed to
say: 'It's the first I've heard of it,' but she
didn't contradict him, which I am sure he
found encouraging. The whole time it seems
it's the role of us guys to keep pushing the
envelope out that little bit further.
The four of us settled on the sofa to watch a
red-hot DVD together. Helen snuggled into
me with one hand placed pointedly over my
crotch, first surreptitiously having
manoeuvred one of her breasts threequarters
and a-bit adrift from the top of her
basque. Paul took the hint and reached out in
the candlelight to begin caressing her, at
which Helen smiled warm encouragement to
him. In a few moments she unfurled herself
from the sofa to kneel on the rug and undo
my pants. Freeing my dick she put it into her
mouth.When she glanced up at me for
approval, I whispered, 'Take off your skirt.'
Standing up, she undid its tie and let the
wrap-over slither to the carpet. Standing
there proudly in just her basque, stockings
and vertiginous high-heels, she brazenly
started to fondle the dewy lips of her shaved
vagina. Seeing her do this, Paul then lifted
the hem of Julie's short dress to peel it (she
seemed quite keen to help) from her body
like a skin, leaving her naked in his arms.
Helen reached across to caress our new
young friend's lovely breasts, while Paul ran
one of his hands up between Helen's thighs,
making her shudder and smile nicely at him.
When Helen and Julie kissed, we knew
the show was really underway. Paul and
I both stood up to remove our own
clothing, secretly comparing our respective
bits-and-bobs as we did so. (Evenly matched,
I'm glad to say.)
Pushing the boundaries
Easing out of her embrace with Helen, Julie
knelt down and slowly took my cock into her
mouth; something which she had felt
'politely obliged' to do perhaps? I cast a
worried glance at Helen and Paul, but on this
occasion my lovely partner smiled and
nodded approval, as did Paul. It seemed we
were quickly graduating from the nursery
slope of our pastime and moving on to the
Rules of Engagement (Helen) Number
One: I'll never suck another man.
Quickly breaking her own rule,
she knelt down and took Paul
into her mouth. (He looked ever
so pleased.) I'd agonised over
whether this would upset me.
Faced with it now, I found it didn't disturb
me at all. A barrier had been crossed. The
reason was simple: our relationship was
secure, and - interestingly - really did seem
to be becoming strengthened through these
naughty extra-marital activities.
Rules of Engagement (Helen) Number
Two: I'll never kiss another man.
She twined both arms around Paul's
neck, and kissed him enthusiastically.
Curiously, this did upset me a bit, but soon I
got used to it.
Girls in control...
Helen then pushed my head down to
indicate that I should perform gentle
cunnilingus on Julie, who tasted so sweet I
could have gone on lapping her Braziliantrimmed
pussy all night.With my heart
thumping, I eased my way slowly up her
body and whispered: 'How would you like it if
Helen was to mount Paul?' Julie nodded.
Attuned to my thoughts, Helen smiled
across at both of us, and asked, 'Would
anyone mind if I was to slide on top of this
'Be my guest,' Julie said croakily.
'Do you mind, darling?' Helen asked me.
'Not at all. Go for it,' I said, nearly having a
small coronary of excitement.
Total Rules of Engagement
(Helen): WHEN PUSH COMES TO
SHOVE... FORGET 'EM.
Her look of gratitude was
mingled with glassy-eyed
lust - plus a considerable
degree of interest in what she was about to do. No-one had asked
Paul if he minded, but lying with his arms
behind his neck it didn't seem that he did.
...and on top
Like a girlie-mag model, displaying every
glistening pussy-fold for the punter, Helen
cocked her leg and parted her labia with
slippery fingers before easing herself gently
on to the tip of Paul's engorged and
twitching monster. Throughout our
relationship I had blanked out the fact that
she had performed this act five-thousand
times before, with her husband and various
other guys.When younger, my jealousy
would have meant killing her. Mature now, I
was urging her on.
Undulating her hips, Helen descended
further and further on to Paul's prick, playing
to an enthralled gallery of two and milking
her exhibitionism for all its worth. 'Oh,' she
gasped with renewed interest, forgetting us
and concentrating on Paul. They gathered
momentum. They kissed.
This time it was for real. Moaning and
bucking they gave themselves up completely
to the act, Paul slamming himself into Helen
while she slapped her loins to meet each
With a shriek and a shudder they
simultaneously climaxed and lay there,
squeaking contentedly. My own ejaculate
spurted hotly across Julie's hand, which
triggered her own juddering orgasm. Helen
disengaged from Paul and slithered off,
palming her pussy retentively until she could
reach a tissue.
Would she - or wouldn't she?
It had turned out that, given the mood was
right, she most definitely would. (And did.)
I hadn't got to fuck Julie, but that didn't
matter. I had enjoyed watching Helen enjoy
herself, and being enjoyed. Those of you
already further down this adventurous route
of discovery, may counsel that we have
opened a Pandora's box of potential trouble.
Paul and Helen might develop an
unstoppable attraction for each other, but
given the Ground Rules, neither of us expects
this to happen.
Needless to say, we both performed
some more at home that night.
'How would you have felt if Paul and I
had both had you simultaneously?' I asked.
'How do you mean?' she asked. I felt her
flutter with interest.
'Well... I believe it's called double-entry.'
She lay silent for a while. 'Well?'
'Mmmmm. Maybe. Have to wait and see
about that, won't we?'